


Palette

by mewtwo



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Friendship, it's literally just butch ramblings with a sad / not-coping lw, mainly one sided if you squint a little tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 18:35:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12990078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mewtwo/pseuds/mewtwo
Summary: She up and left without so much as a note on the nightstand.And Butch isn't quite sure he knows what to do with himself.





	Palette

“I’ve got this, I’m _fine_.”

Lone had told him that before she had disappeared north without so much as a note on the nightstand – hell, he only assumed she’d gone north from word of mouth, she could have been halfway to wherever China was, Butch assumed – and it left him alone.

And Butch had never had to be alone, per say, there had been the ‘Snakes with him in their youth, the Rebels for what a fucked up little family they were when the vault came to ruin, and the Muddy Rudder usually had someone for him to break open Pandora’s Box of drunken ramblings. Dogmeat was around, good company, didn’t talk much.

It had given him some time to think, especially about how he at least deserved a damn word before she up and left.

Ever since she’d turned back up at ol’ ‘101 she looked like she’d been to hell and back, no rest stops in between, the girl hadn’t slept for weeks and damn, it was obvious. Her eyes were sunken, glossy and never seemed to convey anything, and she sounded numb, like the commie’ robots that he’d read about, just getting through every task like it was a goddamned order.

It wasn’t his fault she was getting dragged through shit all the time, right? He was just trying to be there for her, and even if he didn’t like to admit it, Nosebleed was good protection. For a girl that broke into a sob at literally anything back in the vault, she was something of a hardass – people listened to her, respected her and no one fucked with her (and got away with it).

Little Amelia had become the gal living the life that Butch thought he’d be living when he’d sauntered out of that vault.

She wouldn’t let him call her that anymore, no one called her by her name now that he’d given it a thought. Hell, she gave him a look to kill when he’d called her Nosebleed. It was Lone, or Lone Wanderer, that was who she was, and all she was – or so she had said to him before she’d shut herself into her rusty Megaton room.

Since then, Butch had only gotten away without scorn for calling her by her name once, and it had been the night before she’d packed up. He’d been over at Moriority’s perhaps a bit too late talking it up with Nova – not his type but they got on like a house on fire, he wouldn’t lie and say nothing had happened, and by the time he’d strolled back inside the shabby shack he’d expected her to be sound asleep but there she was in all her glory sobbing her eyes out on the couch clutching a bottle of foul smelling beer, not that he tried to discriminate against wasteland food _too_ much.

On loop was that holotape.

He wanted to take it away from her, but he couldn’t bring himself to, he knew she’d hate him for it. Every time that her mother’s young gleeful voice began she stifled a sob, but he still heard it. That night, it took her a few runs to even notice that Butch had come back home, had she even known he left?

It always ran through his mind how she’d been the girl that spat out the beer that they snuck to vault prom disgusted. He counted seven, maybe eight empty bottles that night.

Neither of them spoke to each other that night, bar a few words.

Butch merely, meekly, turned off the holotape and took his place next to her. Comforting people wasn’t his forte, he was the guy that was _cool_ , _suave_ and the _toughest guy in the wastes_ (all self-proclaimed), but she was the closest thing to home he had left out there. He guessed that he was the closest thing to the vault she had left too, all things considered. The Doc’ had been a good guy to Butch, closest thing to a dad he’d ever had he guessed.

He’d never lost anyone like family, his dad was never around to lose and the only time he’d ever come close to losing his mom Amelia had come to his pleading like a silver knight and saved her – he wished he could pay her back for that, he knew he never would.

There was Paul. There hadn’t been a day passing when he hadn’t thought Paul deserved better, something, anything other than _that_. Amelia missed him too, but they’d never spoken about it further. She wasn’t the most talkative. But he couldn’t imagine what it had felt like to lose the Doc’, ‘specially after she’d walked the ends of the Earth for him.

“Amelia,” Butch had pulled her into his arms, and she fell willingly, almost lifelessly. He could tell that she was tired, exhausted. Gob said she didn’t sleep too well, but getting info’ out of that ghoul was like pulling teeth – they looked closer than her and Amata had ever been and that was for sure saying something.

Butch didn’t want to be a cliché, but he did sometimes think that Amelia was beautiful. She wasn’t a knockout by any means, not to his taste anyway (Paul had a huge crush on her), but when she’d first let him lug around the wastes with her, he saw her in a new light. It felt like those bootlegged, banned movies they’d seen in the vault where the guy sees the girl out in front of the sunlight and it’s the most life-changing event – or somethin’ like that, he usually fell asleep but that point.

She must have looked like her mother. No disrespect to her dad, but he’d have lost a fine amount of caps if he’d have bet they were related. The Doc’ had been a blonde with thin, worn hair, and was pretty damn pale too, wide features and friendly looking while Amelia sported full brunette curls, cappuccino toned skin and a feline face. She was pretty damn pretty out in the wastes, but there were many out there she couldn’t hold a candle to.

They’d dozed off with her nestled into Butch’s arms, it had been a strange comforting sensation for the both of them, unfamiliar in such trifling times. And then?

He woke up without her to be found for miles. She’d probably have gotten further out by the time he woke up if not for Dogmeat’s canine howls.

At first he thought that she’d come back in a few hours.

And then a few days.

And then a month went by.

Nothing.

_Amelia’s a wasteland legend_ , he told himself, _you don’t need to worry, she’ll come back_.

But that wasn’t right, no.

‘Lone’ was the legend, high and mighty she was with that name but the angel of the wastes walked with a face that looked just like his Nosebleed. Amelia was the girl that couldn’t stop spiralling out of her own mind, losing everything she’d once held dear to her.

Nova had ushered him over on one of his nightly visits to Moriority’s, her voice unusually soft and hushed as opposed to her usual brash, sarcastic serenade. “Hey, I was talkin’ to Gob this mornin’ and I thought you should know somethin’.”

“Know what? Crook’s waterin’ down the beer again?” He’d stopped asking about Amelia a week or two ago. It’d marked two months since she’d left, he thought.

“Again? You wish he’d stopped hun,” Nova paused, hand brushing through her short fiery mop, “Nah, apparently before she packed up and left, Lone came up and asked Gob if she’d heard anythin’ about this place called the Pitt, got a radio message or somethin’ about it. Said someone needed help, and that’s what she does y’know. I don’t know if she’s still there but, yeah, clear your head sugar.”

“D’ya know how I can get there?”

“Can’t say for sure, ask Moria. I know she’s a bit of a crackpot but Lone and her talk a lot, might know, Gob’s not gonna’ give any more lip.”

Immediately, he turned to the doorway, before Nova reached out for his shoulder to stop him.

“You goin’ after her?”

“Of course, Tunnel Snakes are forever, unspoken code,” he flashed an award-winning smirk. It annoyed the hell out of Nova, who with furrowed brows clearly didn’t understand what he was talking about.

“It’s gonna’ be hell out there, if she’s not come back yet, you might not like what you find. If you make it.”

Butch shrugged it off, mind set, and thoughts ablaze.

“I’ve got this, I’m _fine_.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> it's 2am and this literally has no plot


End file.
